


Train Wrecks

by Grey (grey853)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 04:26:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey853/pseuds/Grey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim helps Blair deal with a sexual assault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Train Wrecks

## Train Wrecks

by Grey

Author's webpage: <http://grey.ravenshadow.net/>

* * *

Title: Train Wrecks  
Author: Grey  
email: Grey853@aol.com  
Rating: NC-17, explicit language  
Pairing: J/B  
Date: June 5, 1998  
Archive: Yes  
Series/Sequel: None  
Other website: <http://grey.ravenshadow.net/>

* * *

Summary: Blair's strange behavior leads Jim to a tragic conclusion. 

Warning: This story deals with the aftermath of sexual assault. If that offends you, don't read it. 

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and never will. 

Train Wrecks  
by Grey 

Blair Sandburg ran his fingers through the tumble of dark waves highlighted with auburn. Angie Graves turned and flashed an impatient smile, her bright red lips curled with pleasure. "Come on, Blair, honey. You start that now, we'll never make it to the movie." 

"Would that be so awful?" Blair traced a finger down her cheek, the creaming complexion smooth and completely flawless. 

"Well, normally no, but I did tell Marcus, we'd meet him there." 

Blair's earlier cheer vanished. "Marcus? You didn't mention he'd be there." 

She moved her hand to the back of his neck, just under his curls, and gently teased the skin. "Sure I did. He's got to write some kind of review for the paper. I thought we could see the film and then maybe we'd all go have something to eat? Why? You don't mind, do you?" 

Not meeting her dark blue eyes with his own, Blair shrugged. "I guess not. I'm just greedy. I wanted it to just be the two of us for a change." 

"Greedy's one word for it, baby." With the slightest of giggles, she leaned in and kissed him lightly on the lips, letting her tongue barely slick the outer edge. Her voice turned breathy. "Don't worry, hon. We'll have a great time at my place later. Promise." 

Knowing Jim could hear from upstairs, Blair shifted uneasily and stood up. "Come on, Angie. You're right about being late. We wouldn't want your brother to have to go into an art film without back up." 

As Blair walked out, his lady on his arm, he didn't see Jim leaning against the banister of his upstairs bedroom, his eyes focused tightly on the woman he had come to hate. He squeezed his eyes shut to ward off the swarm of violent and deadly images assaulting his internal screen. He wanted to snatch back his guide, but found himself totally helpless against this new woman's arsenal. Trouble loomed like an ancient warrior standing guard over the bridge linking his world to enemy territory. In Jim's mind Angie Graves defined the enemy, no doubt about it. 

* * *

Jim paced in front of the window, one hand wrapping his waist, the other rubbing his mouth. He glanced over at the pile of folders on the table and decided to try one more time to concentrate on organizing the Mattingly case. The minuscule amount of work he'd accomplished in the last five hours taunted him. He knew obsession drove him to distraction just as he knew how to break down and clean his weapon with his eyes closed. He just couldn't do anything about it. Blair filled his every thought. Police work didn't have a chance. 

The metal against metal of the key alerted him to his guide's return. His young friend fumbled at opening the door and practically fell inside, the keys missing the table. 

"Hey, Chief, you okay?" The slow heartbeat and shallow breathing concerned him. This made the second night in a row Blair staggered in from his date barely able to walk. 

"Yeah. Everything's cool. I'm just tired, man." The words slurred on a lazy tongue, as he pushed back his wild, fuzzy hair. Unfocused eyes turned on Jim. "You still up? Isn't it like really late?" 

"Couldn't sleep. Look, Chief, I think we need to talk." 

"In the morning, man. I'm wasted." 

"No kidding." Jim swallowed hard, biting back the rest of the stinging commentary that waited impatiently behind the last remark. 

Blair, shaking his head as if to clear his useless vision, rubbed his eyes and then moved over to the couch. Sagging down, he let his head fall back before he finally asked, "What's that supposed to mean?" 

Stepping to the sofa, Jim sat down, being sure to keep his voice calm and even. "Look, I know what you do on your own time is your business, Chief, but I'm worried about what's been going on lately. Did you drive like this? I mean, you're in no condition to be on the road when you can't even stand up." 

"Is that what you're worried about? My driving?" Blair's normally crystal clear eyes clouded even more while he spoke. Underneath the simple words, an undercurrent of pain swirled, muddied by unspoken questions. 

"I don't want you to get hurt, Chief. Not to mention you could hurt someone else or get arrested." 

"Arrested?" 

"I don't like the fact that you're drinking so much, but that's none of my business. Driving under the influence is." 

Blair shook his head and took a deep breath. "I'm not drunk, Jim. I mean, I only had a couple of beers. I don't know what's going on. I never could drink much, but wow this is different." 

"Different how?" 

"I don't know. I just feel strange, like I'm floating around, disconnected. Everything's way far away." 

Jim's stolid face grew even more strained. "Did you take anything?" 

"No way, man. You know me better than that. I think I'm just tired in general. Anyway, don't worry about the driving. Angie and Marcus drove me home. They didn't want me driving like this either." 

The mention of the names surged an angry heat through his chest. He hadn't trusted Angie before, and now he had reason to trust her even less. "Let me get this straight. Are you saying that you haven't taken anything else and you're in this condition after only two beers?" 

"Yeah, man, it's weird. Seems like every time I go over to Angie's lately, I get plastered." 

"Yeah, weird, Chief." 

Struggling to sit back up, Blair reached out and took Jim's arm. The electric shock of contact sent the older man reeling. The lightest touch burned up his groin, tingling down his thighs. Ignoring the physical signals of his own arousal, Jim helped get his friend to a standing position and then draped the limp arm around his neck. "Hang on, buddy. We'll finish this little mystery in the morning." 

"Thanks, man. This really sucks. I think my body's going on strike of something." 

Blair's weight grew as his legs failed beneath him. Shuffling filled the loft with the uneven scraping of rubber soles against wood. With his skin so close, Jim took a whiff of the man he knew almost as well as himself. Every muscle tightened in the grip of jealous pain. Angie's sex covered him along with the smell of his own semen. Then, Jim stopped for a moment, cataloguing a new scent, something slightly bitter, definitely something that normally wasn't there. It smelled like another man. Shit. 

Jim turned to Blair, his eyes too bright with betrayal. "Damn, Chief." 

"What?" The muttered words muffled the question into his chest as Blair's head leaned against him. 

"Nothing." Practically lifting his friend, he managed to get him to his own room. Carefully he sat Blair on the edge of the bed. "Lift your arms, Chief." 

"Sorry, man. Too tired. Leave me alone." Falling back, too sleepy to even care about disrobing, Blair turned over, face to the wall, drew his legs up, and went to sleep. 

Still worried, Jim placed a palm on his forehead. Satisfied his friend enjoyed only a very deep sleep, he pulled back his hand. An oil-slicked finger dotted his tongue with an unusual flavor. Jim loved the taste of Blair's sweat. After rough-housing in the gym or playing ball, he often sneaked small touches, small samples of his friend's essence. He knew all the food and herbal changes by heart. The sudden difference made him worry even more. 

He reached down and slipped off Blair's shoes. Then he gently took a cover and spread if over his sleeping friend. He tucked it up under his chin and stood back up. 

Something was very wrong here. No way was this just fatigue. The most important order of business would be to get blood and urine tests first thing in the morning. Then he'd run a background check on Angie and Marcus Graves. 

Sitting down in a chair near the bed, Jim settled back to stay nearby. If the pattern repeated from the previous evening, his best friend would not sleep soundly. He templed his fingers together and waited for the dreams to begin. 

* * *

The loud retching filled the loft, followed by the stomach-turning stench of bile. Jim leaned over his ill partner. He'd already tied back the hair and gently rubbed his friend's back as the sickness brought his tired muscles up for another round of heaving. Nothing came up, but the spasms continued. After a few more attempts, Blair finally settled down and let himself move back from the toilet, propping himself against the wall. His pale, sweat-soaked skin made for a picture of pain Jim would just as soon forget. 

He handed him a damp cloth. "Here, Chief. Wipe your mouth." 

Weakly, Blair reached up and took it. "Sorry about this, man. I don't know what's going on." He closed his eyes, his head resting against the back wall. "Must have been something I ate." 

"Yeah? Did you eat the same thing last night?" 

"No." The lonely word limped between them. 

"Then, maybe it's time we found out what's really happening. I want you to see a doctor." 

"No way, man. No doctors." 

"Yes, Chief. A doctor. Today. It's either that or I'm taking you to the emergency room right now." 

"Come on, Jim. This isn't fair. I'm too tired to fight." 

"I know that, Chief. That's pretty much the point, don't you think?" 

Blair stared up at his friend, his dark blue eyes glazed with pain. Swallowing a couple of times to wrestle both with his fears and his stubborn tongue, he finally whispered. "Okay." 

Jim recognized his friend's turmoil, hated it, but accepted that little would change until he discovered the true nature of the problem. He needed more clues. "It's too early to call, but as soon as he's open, I want you to see Dr. Sullivan." 

"Why Sullivan? Why not Dr. Briggs from downtown?" 

"Briggs would have to report the results to the department, Blair. I don't think we should risk that." 

Still on the floor, but sitting a little straighter, Blair hugged his knees up close under his chin. "Damn it, Jim. You think I've been taking something." 

"Not on purpose, no. But you have to admit it looks suspicious that since you took up with Angie and her brother, you've been acting differently." 

A flash of anger raced across Blair's face. "Took up with? Man, you've hated her from the start. What's your deal anyway?" 

"My deal is I don't like what's going on with you and I think the two are connected." 

"Connected how?" The original fury calmed, Blair twisted his face, puzzled by the idea. 

"I don't know that yet. That's why I want you to see the doctor. If you are being drugged, I need to know what it is. If you're not, then we need to know why you've suddenly been so sick." Jim sat down on the edge of the tub before he spoke again. "Tell me about the nightmares, Chief." 

Closing his eyes once more, Blair rested his chin on his knees. "I don't want to talk about it." 

"But maybe you need to talk about it." 

"Oh, man, that's rich coming from you." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"It means whenever I want you to share your bad dreams, you tell me they're nothing." 

Jim rubbed his mouth, forcing back the defensive words that wanted to leap out. Instead he took a deep breath. "But I'm not the one waking up screaming the last two nights, Chief. I'm not the one puking my guts out over whatever it is that wakes you up in a cold sweat. I think talking about it might help." 

Opening his eyes, the young guide stared down at the tile while he spoke, his voice shaky. "Hands." 

"Hands?" 

"Yeah, hands. I don't know where I am exactly, but it's hot and I'm just lying there. I can't really move. I want to, but I can't. Hands are all over me, holding me down, touching and rubbing me." He shifted uneasily as he worked to keep himself calm. "It feels good at first, you know, but then, it hurts and I start struggling, but there are too many hands. My body doesn't want to work right. My head starts pounding and there's this awful spinning that starts." He suddenly stopped talking and gulped empty air. "I'm sorry, man. My stomach hurts when I tell it." 

"It's okay, Chief. Take your time." 

A few deep breaths later and Blair tried again. "It's just that it's really weird how it starts out really nice and then goes into this wild, out-of-control swirling. That's when I wake up and get sick." 

"You talk about the hands. Do you ever see who the hands belong to or hear anyone speaking?" 

"No, not really, I mean, I think it's Angie, but then it's not. It doesn't make any sense in my head. It's all mixed up." 

Leaning forward, his hands clasp tight before him to contain the anger, Jim spoke with the tone of a seasoned cop. "Anything else you remember, any sounds, any lights?" 

"A light. There's a red light somewhere and flashing. I hear a clicking sound, but I'm too busy trying not to puke." Blair brought both hands up, rubbing his temples. "God, my head hurts. Shit." He lurched forward, bracing himself on the edge of the toilet as the dry heaving started again. 

After a few more minutes, he sagged back against the wall, his knees raised. He worked hard to catch his breath and held his stomach with both hands. "Man, this sucks, Jim." 

"I know, Chief. I'm sorry." 

Sad, misery-filled eyes looked up. "Why? It's not your fault." 

"I just wish there was something I could do to make it better." 

"You're here, man. That helps more than you know." The young man stared back down suddenly unsure. 

"I'm glad it helps, but it doesn't feel like enough. I hate seeing you like this and feeling powerless." 

"I know, but you can't control everything, Jim, no matter how much you'd like to. Don't blame yourself." 

"I'm not, I just, oh, forget it. Why don't we get you back to bed for a few more hours sleep?" 

Nodding with reluctant agreement, Blair reached out his hand. Jim helped him to his feet and back to his bed. Propped up, the young man lay there for a few moments before finally speaking. "Jim, do you really think she or Marcus is drugging me?" 

"I don't know, Chief. It's a theory." 

"A bad one. I mean, what would be the point? I like Angie. Ever since I met her at the university a couple of weeks ago, we've had a great time." 

"Until the last few nights." 

"Yeah, well, that's true." His shoulders sagged from the weight of the admission. 

"And what about Marcus?" Jim watched as Blair shifted uncomfortably on the bed. "What is it, Chief? What aren't you telling me here?" 

"It's nothing." He still failed to meet Jim's intense stare. 

"Then it shouldn't be a problem to tell me then. What's going on?" 

"I know he's Angie's brother, but there's something strange going on there." 

"Strange how?" Jim sat down on the edge of the bed, worried about the increasing heart rate and breathing. 

"It's just that he's always around. Even when Angie and I start to like, you know, get close." 

He glanced up to see the hurt in Jim's eyes before the older man could look away. "Around? Like he's watching while the two of you are intimate?" 

"No way, man. No, he's in the other room, but it's like I know he's there. And last night, well, I got a little upset with Angie, too." 

"About?" 

"Jim, this has nothing to do with my being sick." 

The pleading quality of his friend's voice tightened his chest. Reaching a hand to his shoulder, his own breath faltered when Blair lifted a hand to touch his own. Fighting to keep his voice even and his arousal under control, Jim's already deep voice came out raspy. "Blair, tell me what happened." 

"She wanted Marcus to join us." As Jim tried to move away, Blair gripped his arm tightly, holding him in place. "Wait, Jim. I told her no way. I'm not into threesomes. It's just that it sort of surprised me that's all. It's not like we actually did that." 

"Didn't you?" 

His eyes stinging, Jim locked his vision with Blair's. "No, Jim, we didn't." 

Shaking his head, the sentinel remembered the mingled scents of sex from the night before. Forcing his breathing to remain steady and his heart to stop racing to an explosive end, he strained into his whisper. "Blair, tell me what you recall about last night before you came home." 

"Recall?" 

"Yeah, recall. Do you remember sleeping with Angie?" 

Suddenly blushing, Blair shook his head. "Come on, man. Isn't it you who's always hammering me about how I used to kiss and tell?" 

"Listen to me, Chief. This is important. Did you sleep with her or not?" 

"Yeah, but I have to admit, I don't really remember much. Please don't tell Angie I said that, man. I mean, to be honest, I can't figure out what exactly did happen. We were talking and then we started necking a little. Angie said something about moving and then, well, then, it all kind of blurs." 

"Jesus, Chief." 

"What? Jim, you've had whole months you don't remember. Give me a couple of nights for godsakes. 

"A couple of nights? This happened the night before, too? Why didn't you tell me?" 

"Because I wasn't exactly sure. I thought maybe I'd just dreamed it. But then last night, it was like the night before, a blur." When Jim remained silent, Blair looked toward the wall. "I'm sorry, man. It was stupid. I know I should've told you." The pain dripped from his words, thick and wounded. 

"You're right, you should've, Chief. People just don't forget shit like that for no reason." 

"I know, Jim. I'm sorry." The words choked in his throat. 

Jim rubbed his guide's shoulder as he spoke, trying to calm the slow rise of gibbering madness in his chest. "Just tell me what you do remember about last night." 

"I don't remember much after the second beer. It started out nice enough, but then, it just sort of got jumbled. I must've fallen asleep, because the next thing I know, Marcus and Angie are helping me into the car ready to bring me home." 

Jim's words struggled past clenched teeth. "And how did you feel?" 

"Feel? Confused, man. Then you started in about drunk driving or some shit." Raising a weary hand to rub his forehead, Blair wet his dry lips before he could speak again. "I'm sorry, Jim. I just don't know what's going on. I'm losing it here." 

"No, you're not, Chief. We're going to find out what's wrong. Now, lie back and sleep a little more. I'm going to call Simon and tell him we're going to the doctor's later." 

Letting his eyes close, Blair sank back into the pillow supporting his head. Jim patted his stomach lightly. "Sleep, Chief. It's going to be okay." 

Once in the other room, Jim leaned and braced himself on the counter, the primal scream swelling, struggling to be released. He barely contained it as he imagined the possible reasons why his partner wouldn't remember having sex or smelling like the semen of another man. The answer based on Blair's story painted grief in layers to the deepest tissue surrounding his heart. To prove what he believed happened would mean more pain, more humiliation for his best friend. The intense desire to murder both Angie and Marcus Graves chanted wildly, begging to defeat any rational thought still residing inside his head. 

Picking up his cell phone, he rang the captain. "Simon? This is Jim. Sir, I need your help." 

* * *

Less than two hours later, Captain Simon Banks knocked on the door to the loft. "How's he doing?" 

"He's still asleep." Spying the folder in his captain's hand, he added. "You get something?" 

Simon's frown deepened. "You're not going to believe this." 

"What?" Jim took the file and started scanning through it. 

"According their records, Angela and Marcus Graves have both been arrested on several occasions in Chicago, but never convicted. Apparently there were all kinds of rumors about blackmail involving her brother and some specialized kink, but nothing was ever proven. It's why he got fired from the paper there. Then they moved up on the food chain." 

"I see that. Jesus. Is this for real?" 

"Apparently, they've been arrested for sexual assault twice. Neither offense stuck since the victims wouldn't testify." 

"Shit, Simon." Jim stared at the file and sank down to the couch. "This is the same pattern. Do we have specifics from the case files?" 

"We're still waiting, but, Jim, aren't we jumping the gun here? I mean, we haven't even had him examined yet." 

The bare-foot shuffle up the hallway brought Jim to his feet. "Hey, Chief. How you feeling?" 

The rumpled guide ran his hand through his now loose hair while he tried to focus on his surroundings. "I'm okay. Simon? Why are you here, man?" 

"I asked him to come over, Chief." He motioned and directed him to the sofa. "Sit down. We need to talk." 

"Listen, man, in a minute. I need to take a shower and brush my teeth first. I'm really ripe here." As he started to turn, Jim blocked his path. 

"I don't want you to do that yet, Chief. Let's talk." 

"About what? What's going on, Jim?" The baffled tone gave way to fear. 

Simon's voice came from behind him. "He's right, Blair. You need to sit down and talk first. We've got a doctor's appointment in less than an hour. You can shower after that." 

Rounded eyes stared up, filled with questions. Without another word, Blair sat down and waited. 

"Look, Chief, I asked Simon to come over because I wasn't sure about what to do." 

"Do about what, Jim?" 

"You." Jim looked over at Simon, begging for back up. 

"Blair, Jim was concerned that something might have happened last night, something that you can't remember. He had me run a check on the Graves twins." 

"You did what? Come on, man. Just because you're cops, it doesn't mean you can abuse the privilege." 

"It's not an abuse, Chief. We found out they've been arrested before." 

"Arrested for what?" 

"Sexual assault." Jim waited while the words sank in. Blair's pale face transformed to a vision of panic. 

"That's crazy. Jesus, Jim, I knew you didn't like her, but this is too much." 

"Blair, listen, Jim's got the file right here. They find somebody who fits a certain profile and over a period of time drug and abuse him. When we take you to the doctor we need to check for drugs, something like Rohypnol." 

Jim added with a lower tone. "Chief, we need to do a rape kit just to be safe." 

Blair came up off the sofa so quickly, he dodged his way right down the hallway past his two friends. Slamming the bathroom door, he locked it behind him. Jim rattled the knob as he yelled. "Come on, Chief. Open up." 

From behind the door, he heard the sounds of serious retching. After it finally stopped, Blair's quiet voice forced air from his lungs. "Jim, man, don't do this." 

"I have to, Chief." 

"No way, man. I'm not going." 

"Sandburg, get out here." Simon's booming voice startled them both. "I know this is hard, but we have to do it. Come on now. Open the door." His voice softened. "Blair. It's important to find out what happened." 

"Important? Screw important. This is my life you're fucking with here, man." 

Jim fought back the anger and the hurt that threatened to overwhelm him. His friend's suffering burned a cauldron of emotions into a brew too caustic, too potent to ignore. "Chief, we want to help. I know it's hard, but come on out. We can't keep talking through the door." 

"Just leave me the fuck alone." The sound of the shower started. 

"Damn." He and Simon exchanged worried looks. "Simon, what do we do now?" 

"It's your call, Jim. We can force him, but what will that accomplish?" 

Frustrated, Jim slammed a fist into wood and yelled over the rushing shower. "We'll be out here when you're finished, Chief. We're still going for the blood tests and exam." Filtering out the background of noises of water hitting skin, he heard the soulful sounds of weeping. Backing away, he swallowed hard, choking on the powerful mix of his own pain and seething anger. More than anything he wanted to take Blair into his arms and comfort him, to wipe away the sting of betrayal. Such a simple thing forbidden tightened his resolve to make the man he loved safe. 

"Come on, Simon. Let's get him some clothes together and find out about those other cases." 

A restraining hand stopped him. "Jim, he's going to be okay." 

"Okay? Sure, why not? Blair's bouncy, right? Nothing fazes him." 

"I didn't mean it like that." 

"I'm sorry, Simon. I just can't believe this is happening. I know we have to stop these people, but right now, I've got to do what I can to save my friend from anymore pain." 

"I know that, Jim, but I think you should be honest with yourself before we go any further." 

"Honest?" 

"You're in love with your partner. You shouldn't be anywhere near this case." 

Shit. "What the hell are you talking about? Of course, I love him. He's my partner. And don't even think about taking me off this." 

"That's not what I meant and you know it. As for taking you off the case, I didn't become a captain by being stupid." The older man stood his ground, staring directly at his best detective and friend. 

"I can't talk about this right now, Simon." 

"I understand that, but don't keep lying to yourself. If he really was assaulted, and every cop instinct I have says that's the case, the kid's going to need a lot of support on this. You can't be much help if you can't even make yourself admit the truth about your own feelings." 

Sagging, his back propped against the hallway wall, Jim crossed his arms tightly around his chest. "What the hell am I supposed to do, Simon?" 

"When the time is right, tell him. In the meantime, don't let your anger get in the way of seeing the main objective." 

"Which is?" 

"To make sure Blair makes it through this, because, frankly, my friend, I don't plan on giving up my best team. Call me selfish if you like." 

Jim shook his head as a terrible burden of sadness sang in his words. "Simon, this is so wrong. So unfair." 

"I know, Jim. I know." 

* * *

Dr. Michael Landers motioned to the chairs in his office. "Sit down, gentlemen. Mr. Sandburg will be out in a moment. He's getting dressed. He told me I could explain what I've done so far before he gets here." 

Jim shifted uneasily in his seat, trying not to look over at his captain or to stretch out his senses to check on his guide. He needed to focus, but found it near impossible. A slight tap on his arm brought him back to full attention. 

"I saw no evidence of physical trauma or penetration to indicate that Mr. Sandburg had been raped. Of course, we all know that if he were drugged, he'd put up no resistance to other types of sexual assault. After we discussed the symptoms and circumstances he's experienced the last two nights, I did blood and urine samples, but those results won't be back for several days." 

"So he's okay?" Jim sat up finally breathing a little more deeply. 

"Physically? Yes. He's dehydrated, probably from the vomiting. However, I'm still a little concerned." 

"Concerned about what? I thought you just said he was okay." 

"Jim, let the doctor finish before you start." Simon flashed his Captain's face and the detective reluctantly settled back down against his seat. 

"As I was saying, I'm a little concerned because he seems confused and withdrawn, even a little disoriented. If he were given something like Rhohypnol or Quaaludes mixed with alcohol, it could be long lasting enough to cause that. But we can't know for sure without the results of the tests. Plus, I'm also running an HIV and STD screen. If he were exposed to any sexually transmitted diseases, we need to know that, too." 

The full impact of the last statement skimmed the surface of reality as Jim heard Blair's hand click the doorknob. He couldn't think about any other complications, not yet. Instead, Jim turned and watched as his friend came into the room, his head down, his skin far too pale. 

"Sit down, Mr. Sandburg. Anymore nausea?" 

"No, I'm okay now. Thanks." Blair sat in the chair beside his partner, but still refused to make eye contact with anyone in the room. His partner's heart pounded like wild war drums in his chest. Jim wanted to reach out and take his hand, but gripped the chair instead. 

"Chief, did you get sick again?" 

"Seriously, Jim, I'm okay. I just want to go home and forget all this." Swallowing hard, Blair's head came up, his blue eyes unnaturally bright, child-like and pleading. "Is there any reason why I just can't go home and go to bed?" 

"No, Mr. Sandburg, in fact, I'd suggest you do just that, only I also want you drink plenty of water or juices before you do. You need fluids." 

Simon leaned forward and asked, "Dr. Landers, if we find out that Blair wasn't drugged, what might cause these symptoms?" 

"Actually he could have a virus or other infection, but I doubt it. There's no fever or any inflammation that would indicate that. If there's an elevated white count, that would paint a different picture, but, again I'll need the blood tests back before I can say for sure. In all honesty, based on what I've seen, Mr. Sandburg most likely ingested something to cause these reactions. I'm just not sure what." 

He turned his gaze on Blair before he spoke again. "What I suggest is for you to go home and do what you talked about earlier, sleep. If the tests come back that you weren't drugged, then I'll get you back in here to follow up. If you were, then you'll have to decide along with your friends here what to do legally. Medically I would strongly recommend counseling. You may recall some things that happened in the form of flashbacks or dreams. Be prepared for that if it happens, so you won't end up in a panic. Even if you never regain memories of what happened, you should try to talk to someone about dealing with your feelings." 

Blair remained absolutely quiet and uncharacteristically still. 

"Mr. Sandburg, do you understand what I'm saying?" 

Pushing his hair back nervously, Blair nodded. Shoulders still slumped, he rubbed his hands on both thighs as if trying to wipe them clean. Over and over the motion continued, the friction of flesh against cloth the only sound the room. 

The doctor frowned and turned back to Jim and Simon. "Take him home, gentlemen. See that he rests." He handed a prescription to Jim. "You might want to get this filled. If the vomiting continues beyond this afternoon, use it." 

"We'll do that, doctor." Simon stood and waited for Jim to join him. 

"Come on, Chief. Let's go." 

Still not speaking, Blair rose from his chair and went out the door, head still bowed. His hair fell down like a dark veil to shadow his face. 

Simon turned to Jim and spoke in a hush. "Man, this is going to be rough." 

"Rough doesn't half cover it, sir." 

* * *

Jim sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee and studying the case files. His head lifted as he watched Blair walk into the room and head for the coffee pot. Still haggard, he moved slowly, each action sluggish compared to his usual fluid grace. "How you feeling, Chief?" 

A shrug answered, while Blair reached up for a mug. After pouring the coffee, he walked to the living room to stand in front of the window. "Simon left?" His voice still sounded tired. 

"Yeah. He needed to do some things down at the station." Jim swiveled around and watched the tight motion of muscles as his friend struggled within himself. Few times had he ever seen his best friend so tense. 

"You're missing work. You don't have to baby-sit me. I'm okay." 

"I am working. And you're not okay. Nobody would be." 

"So, what are you working on?" He continued to talk in the direction of the window as he drank his coffee. 

"Simon got copies of the cases involving the Graves twins from Chicago. A Captain Trent owed him a favor and he faxed them out. There's enough here to make me think they targeted you for a reason." 

"What reason?" Blair came to sit across from Jim while he spoke. 

"Apparently the other two men who filed reports both looked a lot like you." He pushed two pictures at his friend. Seeing Blair jerk back in response, he pulled them quickly into the folder again. "Sorry, Chief." 

"It's okay. So, you're saying they like guys with long dark hair like theirs, right?" 

"It's not just the hair, Chief. It's the whole package, hair, body, academic background. Both these guys worked out of universities." 

Blair put his cup on the table, his sad eyes locking with his partner's. "I know you mean well, but what's the point of all this, Jim? We both know that I can't file any charges even if the drug tests come back positive. It would be my word against theirs. Isn't that why these guys dropped the charges? I mean, it's pretty clear that they got away with it in Chicago and they're going to get away with it here." Sitting so close, Jim heard the thickness of the words, saw the flush of pain pushing them out into the world. 

"Chief, I know it seems that way, but listen, according to one of the men, a Dan Stevens, he said they took pictures. If that's true, they probably did that again." 

The horror behind the words rocked Blair back against the seat. Bringing a hand to his mouth, he sat there in shock for a few moments before he finally whispered. "Jesus, Jim. The light." 

"The light? You mean the one you talked about last night?" 

"Yeah, it might have been a camera or a video. There were flashes. It's not real clear, but there was this clicking. It could've been the sound of someone taking pictures. Oh, man, this is sick." 

Very quietly, Jim leaned forward. "Chief, did you remember anything else? You sound more sure now than before." 

Blair put his hands together on the table in front of him, letting his head hang down as he spoke in the barest of whispers. "Something happened, Jim. I don't need drug tests to know that now." 

"What do you remember?" 

"Marcus and Angie were both in the bed, Jim. They did things to me they had no right to do." A tear escaped and leaked down his cheek. He reached up furious, wiping it away. "Damn." 

He squeezed his hands together in one mighty fist. "They did that and then they did each other. Jesus, I can't believe this. It's like it's not really even happening to me. I'm talking about it, but I'm not here." 

Reaching out, Jim gripped Blair's arm. Blair jerked back violently, but the hold held. "Let go, Jim." 

"No, you're here, Chief. With me. And you're safe." 

Jerking harder, Blair tried to pull away, his lips twisted and angry. "Let go." His voice softened suddenly as he stopped pulling. "Please, Jim. Don't." 

Immediately, Jim released him and sat back. Rubbing his wrist, Blair spoke in a low voice. "I don't need you to tell me lies, man. Safe. That's a joke. My life is a fucking train wreck. You said so yourself once. I just didn't know it would ever be so true." 

"So, what do you want to do? You think I'm your enemy here, Chief? You pissed at me for not doing more to stop you from going out with the bitch in the first place?" 

The anger withered from his body, Blair settled back against the chair. "No, man, I'm not upset with you. I'm pissed at myself for being so stupid." 

"Stupid? What? Are you blaming yourself for this shit?" 

"Who should I blame? Angie had me pegged, man. She put out the right signals and I went for the whole deal." 

Trying to contain his own frustration and anger, Jim forced himself to remain seated while Blair got up and paced back and forth in front of the couch. 

"She's a sexual predator, Chief. So's her brother. For whatever reason, they fixated on you. That's not your fault. It could've happened to a lot of people. That's why we have to do what we can to make sure it doesn't happen again." 

Blair stopped his pacing, shook his head, and squeezed his eyes shut. "Man, you don't know what you're asking here." 

"I don't? You're wrong. I'm asking you to confront these two with what they've done and stick with it. We both know that's not going to be easy." 

Sinking on the couch, Blair buried his face in his hands. "Man, I cannot do that. It's bad enough you and Simon know. With my reputation, nobody's going to believe I didn't ask for this." 

"Anybody who knows you will know better, Chief." 

"Hell, Jim, I don't even know better." The words stumbled out, weak and full of fear. 

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Jim moved quickly from the chair to sit by his friend on the sofa, careful not to touch him again. 

"I told you, man. At the start it felt good. I liked being with Angie. That part didn't get forced. But the thing with Marcus, man, I must have done something to make them think I could handle that." 

"Chief, stop beating yourself up. You had a right to say no and they took that away when they drugged you. That's what they did to the other victims. Now, you've got an advantage." 

"Advantage?" Blair glanced over, confused. "What are you talking about?" 

"They don't really know we're on to them yet. We might be able to surprise them with a warrant and get the pictures before they have a chance to hide or destroy them." 

"Hold up, man. How are you going to get a warrant when I haven't even made a statement yet? You don't even have evidence that a crime took place." 

"I know that, Chief." Jim's voice took on a solid, calm quality, a far cry from the fury of words screaming in his head. "That's why I need you to make a statement. That along with these files from Chicago will be enough to get a warrant issued." 

Blair shook his head, but then stopped before he met Jim's gaze. "Man, this is so hard." 

"I know." 

"Okay. But, I need a favor first." 

"What?" Jim leaned closer. 

"I need you to promise that you'll forgive me." 

Jim turned, baffled. "Forgive you for what?" 

"For being such a dick. If I weren't always going for the table leg, none of this would've happened. I'm really sorry." 

"Jesus, Chief. The only reason I think you're a dick is that you keep blaming yourself. That's starting to piss me off." 

"I'm sorry." 

"And stop saying that." 

"Okay. What should I say?" 

"Anything except that it's your fault. That I won't listen to. Understand me?" 

"Yeah, I guess. But...." 

"No buts." Jim scooted closer. "Look, Chief, this isn't the time to discuss your love life, wrong or right. We'll do that later. Right now I just want you to understand that you're my best friend and partner and whatever hurts you, hurts me. Now, do me a favor and don't make me have to kick your ass to make you believe that." 

Blair attempted a half-hearted smile. "No, thanks, Jim. I think I've been kicked enough for one day." 

"Good, because the only asses I want to kick are named Graves." 

* * *

"Christ, I can't believe these two were so stupid. They had video for godsakes." 

"I know, Captain." Jim sat at the table in Simon's office trying to control the rage that tackled his muscles across his back and arms. 

"Well, it's good that ignorance and perversion work in our favor. If we didn't have the evidence of the incest, I don't know if we could've convinced them to cop to the assault charge without a trial." 

"I know. That's the scary part. Even with the video, it would still be their word against Blair's that he didn't take the drug voluntarily." 

At the mention of the young man's name, Simon came around from behind his desk and sat on the edge. He watched his best detective's jaw twitch and could hear the teeth grinding at the back of his throat. "How's he doing, Jim?" 

"I think he'll be all right, now that we know we don't have to go to court, but he's still in pretty bad shape. I mean, now it's official, and it's on record." 

"He's got no reason to be embarrassed, Jim. The video is sealed. Only those involved in deciding the case will ever have to see it. None of this was his fault." 

"I've tried to tell him that, but we both know until he believes it himself, it doesn't really matter." 

Nodding, Simon pulled out a cigar and cut off the end. "We've got a good staff psychologist. You should both go see her." 

Jim's head jerked up. "What? I don't need to see Dr. Ramsey. I wasn't the one assaulted." 

"No, but you're affected by this, too, Jim. Don't think that you're not. You need to deal with this as much as he does. I mean, either that or you're going to be using your major dental when you crack a tooth from the tension." 

"I'm okay, Simon. I'm just worried." 

"I know that, Jim. So am I. Just consider it. And for godsakes, go on home now and take care of your partner. I know we got damn lucky with the legal parts of this, but I don't think the full impact has hit him yet." 

"I know, Simon. He's still blaming himself." 

Simon lit the end of his cigar, puffing a few times before finally getting a good pull of smoke. "We both know that's common in these kind of cases. My suggestion is to just listen and talk and do whatever you need to do to be there for him. Blair's tough. The two of you together can beat this thing." 

"I hope so, Simon. It's just that I'm not sure what to do all the time. You know I'm not exactly the most tactful guy in the world. I don't want to say anything that'll make it worse." 

The captain stood and stepped over to sit across from his friend. "Jim, nothing you say to Blair can make it any worse." 

"You don't know that." 

"Yes, I do. We touched on this before, and maybe it's none of my business, but I like to think we're friends here." 

Jim tensed slightly before finally nodding. "We're friends, Simon, and I know what you're going to say." 

"Oh, so you're a psychic now as well as a sentinel?" The captain dragged on his cigar, the serious expression still glued to his face. 

"No, I just know how you are. You're worse than a dog with a bone. You think I should tell him how I feel, but I can't do that right now. It's too soon. Besides, Blair's never shown any interest in me other than a friend. I don't want to put us both in a position we'll regret." 

"Regret? Talk regret to me when you've lost him, Jim." 

Looking up, he found himself staring into dark stone, black eyes meeting his with the sharp intensity he'd come to respect. "Do you think that could happen?" 

"Yeah, I do. Why do you think it is he gets into all these empty relationships?" 

Shaking his head, both in frustration and bewilderment, Jim's voice sounded even more hoarse than usual. "I don't know. I've asked him that. Except for Maya, I don't think he's ever really even been close to being in love. Sure, he dates Sam from time to time, but that's just sex with him." 

"And why is that, Jim? Why do you suppose it is he can't find anybody to stay with longer than a week or two? It's not like he's not attractive and he's not stupid except about stuff like this. Yet, the only person he's ever shown any commitment to is you? Why is that?" 

Jim shrugged, the room suddenly too tight around him. "What's your point, Simon? You could say the same thing about me." 

"Yeah, you could. And we both know why. Maybe that's my point." 

All the muscles in his stomach tensed with a combination of hope and fear, a swirling punch to cripple his thinking. "I'd love to believe that. I'd love to think that I could mean something to him other than being just his project." 

"Well, you're more than that. You're his friend and that's important. Look, I'm no expert on what makes a guy like Sandburg tick, but I do know people. I see in him what I saw in you. He loves you. How that'll work out now, I don't know. He's been hurt pretty badly. The thing is, you won't know if you don't at least tell him how you feel." 

Jim snorted at the end of Simon's short speech, amazed at the source. "Damn, Simon, who would've figured you'd ever be sitting here trying to convince me to seduce my male partner." 

"Not me that's for damn sure. It's just that I've seen the good he's done for you, Jim. He's made you care again. There was time there when I thought you were pretty much a lost cause. Sandburg changed that." 

"You're right, Simon. I was lost. I'd be lost again if something happened to him." 

"I know that. Now, go home and do the right thing, Jim." 

"How do I know what that is?" 

"Instinct, Jim. It's how you work. Go with it." 

* * *

Soft flickers played at shadows and illuminated the loft as Jim entered well after midnight. Blair sat cross-legged at the center of a semi-circle of unscented candles while whale song floated from the CD in the background. Tilting his head up, he acknowledged Jim's entrance, but continued meditating. 

Jim went and got a beer and settled on the couch behind his young friend, taking in the full picture of someone desperately seeking enlightenment from some spiritual source. In some ways he envied the way Blair could at least attempt such a quest. For Jim higher powers only brought more questions, queries that opened doorways to frightening parts of himself he'd rather keep chained, parts too dangerous to set free. 

"Hey, Jim." The soft voice snapped him back to reality. "You and Simon finish up the case?" 

"As much as we could. The lawyers and courts pretty much take over from here. We got lucky." 

"Oh, yeah, Jim. We got real lucky." The sarcasm inked the words to full darkness. 

"I'm sorry, Chief. I didn't mean it like that. It's just that now we don't have to go through a trial." 

Blair scooted back to the couch, raising his knees to support his arms. "I know. I'm just being pissy. Forget about it." 

"I can't forget about it anymore than you can. If we don't talk this thing through, it's going to grow until we can't control it." Jim put his beer on the table and then slid his body off the couch to settle right next to his best friend. "Talk to me, Chief. Tell me what I can do to stop this thing from eating us alive." 

Shifting to face his partner, Blair stared into icy blue eyes. "I need to know you don't hate me for letting this happen." 

"I thought we talked about that already. You didn't let this happen. You're the victim here, Chief. As for hating you, you know better than that." 

"Do I? Tell me how you feel, Jim, because I'm telling you I'm really confused here." 

"Confused about what?" Blair edged closer, resting his hand on Jim's thigh. "Chief?" 

"Tell me to move it and I will." Dark blue eyes gazed even deeper. 

"No, it's okay. Leave it there." 

"Really? Are you sure?" 

Jim studied the intensity of Blair's expression, his jaw tense, as he bit his lower lip. "I'm sure. Tell me what's going on in that head of your's, Chief." 

"Well, I've been thinking and I've been trying to figure something out." 

"I'm a detective. Give me a few clues and maybe I can help." Jim smiled as he saw Blair shift a little closer, his hand now gently rubbing his thigh. His breath hitched at the electric touch, his arousal growing. 

Noticing the change, Blair grinned. "Like that?" 

"Is this a test?" Jim eased his own hand up and ran his fingers through silky hair. 

"Maybe. Do you want it to be?" He leaned in to the cupping of Jim's palm against his cheek, the beard stubble prickly against sentinel skin. 

"Oh, god, Chief, what are we doing here?" 

"Man, you tell me." Blair ran his hand across Jim's broad chest and then rested his head over Jim's racing heart. 

"Blair, listen, I don't want you to do anything you might regret. You've been through a lot the last few days." He petted the soft curls, breathing in the rich scent that tightened his groin even more. 

"No, Jim, this is right. I know it's bad timing, but I finally figured out that the reason I'm always going from one train wreck to another is that I keep looking for the wrong train." 

"Excuse me?" 

"I've been on the wrong track for a long time now, Jim." Wrapping both arms around Jim's waist, Blair held him even tighter. "I've tried to run from it and hide from it and nothing works. I thought I was in love with Maya, but it didn't feel anything like this. I don't know how to describe it. You're all I think about, all I ever want. It's really amazing, but it's scary, too." 

Jim placed his chin on top of a nest of brown fluff, caressing the back of his guide's neck. "Yeah, I hear that." 

"God, Jim, why does it take a fucking mess like this to make us say something so simple like I love you?" 

The words ran fire through his chest. His brain flamed from the notion that the man in his arms, holding on for dear life, loved him. "I love you, too, Blair. But it's not that simple and you know it." 

"Yeah, I know, but it should be. Right now, I don't want to think about all that it means. I don't want to be an anthropologist thinking about cultural norms or societal expectations. I just want you to hold me, to tell me that here, in this place, you're mine and I'm yours. That society and all that other bullshit doesn't matter. That it doesn't fucking matter that I screwed up again." 

"God, Chief, you didn't screw up. I mean, I'm such a chickenshit, I couldn't even tell you how I felt every time you walked out of here with some new girl. I couldn't bring myself to risk that rejection. I'm the one who screwed up, not you." 

The body in his arms trembled, each ripple building, the last wave a spasm shaking against Jim's chest. Rocking with a gentle, soothing rhythm, Jim cooed and shushed, finally holding the man he loved, the man who would survive to guide him to salvation. The cadence of their connection grounded him to the ultimate building blocks of his world, love and trust. The roar of his surrender sealed the commitment to his future, his guide and his shaman held in his sentinel embrace, at last protected and safe. 

"Jim?" 

"Yeah, Chief?" 

"Just hold me, okay?" 

"Forever." Nuzzling his chin against the scalp below him, a head lifted, startling blue eyes locking onto his. 

"Forever?" 

"You bet." 

"Oh, man. Talk about commitment." The young man snuggled back in, grabbing on even tighter, his forehead rubbing over Jim's left breast. 

"That's right, Chief. The "C" word. Think you can handle it?" 

The trembling in his arms increased and then a hushed whisper drifted up. "Oh, man, Jim, I want to so bad. I don't want to screw this up." 

"You won't, babe." 

Lifting his guide's face gently, Jim lowered his mouth, his lips seeking Blair's. The soft flesh contrasted with the slightest touch of bearded skin enflamed him. His tongue pushed into a heated slickness, licking past teeth and gums, tasting the unique, coffee-enhanced flavor. Pulling back, he gazed down at the face of a miracle, a man who both loved and needed him. Jim Ellison leaned forward, kissing his faith on already puffy lips and offering one simple truth. 

"I love you, Chief." 

The End 

* * *


End file.
